The Ghost of Gryffindor
by coveryoureyes
Summary: Brette Jacquet had gone from Beauxbatons to Azkaban to Hogwarts. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, Prongs, and Madcap had become the five Marauders before Brette died and became the unofficial ghost of Gryffindor. Wandering the castle, she reasoned that the least she could do was look after her friends' children. Especially when Harry Potter seemed to constantly be in mortal peril.
1. Chapter 1

Every Hogwarts student in the Great Hall was whispering to one another, causing a low hum to take over the entire room. There hadn't been an official feast called, but every student who had heard the rumors had made sure to show up for dinner. Dumbledore had wanted the head students to be present at tonight's supper, so James Potter had been notified along with Lily Evans that the rumored event was actually taking place.

Obviously James had told his friends right away.

"So when do you think she'll be here? Dumbledore tell you what time, Prongs?"

James made sure to immediately elbow Sirius, who was sitting to his left and not speaking all that quietly through a mouth full of food. He didn't want to risk Lily overhearing that James had told his friends the official news when it was supposed to be kept confidential– he was only just starting to become friendly with her. However, he knew that Remus had been contacted about the new student, with McGonagall asking him to tutor her in a few subject.

Hissing under his breath, James answered, "He didn't say, but all the professors have gone quiet, so I think it'll be any minute. Just act natural until she gets here. McGonagall is the one who'll be escorting her in."

He looked across the table and saw Remus and Peter go back to eating quietly, after having been staring at the entrance doors to the Great Hall and sitting still. Sirius shrugged and did the same, allowing James to let out a sigh of relief in his friends not acting _too obvious._

He shouldn't have been worrying. One out of every three students had their eyes locked on the door, barely blinking as though if they closed their eyes for even a second they would miss _her_ entrance.

Ten minutes passed, and the sound of footsteps approaching the doors was practically deafening.

It was McGonagall who walked in first, opening the doors confidently and walking forward with a steady, measured gate. When the girl she was with slowly followed her into the room, there was a beat of silence.

Moments later the Great Hall exploded with the sound of nearly every student beginning to talk excitedly.

However, James, Sirius, Remus and Peter weren't talking to each other yet, each one observing the girl silently and trying to make their first assessment.

 _Everyone_ in the wizarding world knew about Brette Jacquet. Even the muggleborn first years, barely two weeks into the school year, would have heard the horror stories.

She was the youngest person ever sent to Azkaban. At sixteen years old she had been sentenced to a life-long imprisonment after murdering two aurors. Her trial had been quick – after all, the entire Jacquet family was infamous for the dark wizards their bloodline produced, and even before they had gone into hiding it seemed as though it was inevitable that their family would ally with Voldemort. She had been found at the scene of her crime passed out due to magical exhaustion from what appeared to be a long battle. Her wand had been tested, and the two avada kedavra curses had been proven to be hers.

But just last month the entire wizarding world had been shocked when her Deatheater brother had been captured and gone on to admit under veritaserum's influence that he had been the one to commit the crime. Even more surprising, he had framed her deliberately.

Which meant an innocent teenager had been in Azkaban for two years.

Brette had been immediately released of course, but so far she had been out of the public eye and avoided the press under the protection of the ministry. There was speculation in the papers, some calling her a mastermind while others cried out in protest on behalf of the girl's sentence and treatment – even those who had been the very same people advocating for her imprisonment.

She had apparently been a sixth year student at Beauxbatons Academy before she was arrested in Great Britain. That had been yet another part of her arrest that was sensationalized – it was very rare for a wizard or witch from another country to be held in Azkaban, so there had been a bit of debate between France and Great Britain's ministries.

James didn't really remember the trial. The Marauders had been in their fifth year when it had taken place, and looking back, becoming an animagus had overshadowed almost everything else going on in his life. Besides, even if his dad and mum were aurors, they had tried to keep him from delving too deeply into that part of their lives, telling him to "enjoy being young while he still could".

He'd only remembered seeing it on the front page, but the killing of aurors and muggleborns alike had been skyrocketing the past few years so it hadn't seemed incredibly out of the ordinary, as awful as that sounded. James could vaguely remember seeing her picture though, the blonde girl staring at the camera, unmoving with an eerily blank expression in her dark eyes. He'd made an offhand comment to Sirius, saying how it was such a shame that she was fit girl.

But she wasn't locked up any more. And it had been announced three days ago that Brette Jacquet would be attending Hogwarts to finish her seventh year of schooling at the age of eighteen, even though two weeks had passed already since the start of classes. It seemed as though the authorities of the wizarding world were eager to make her life return to as normal as it was possible in order to somehow make people forget that she had been in one of the most horrific places in the world for two years due to their mistake.

And bloody hell, was it horrific. James had made his dad tell him about it when he was younger, and even his father had shuddered at the mention of it. If one was sentenced there, they looked forward to isolation, a small cell, and the constant presence of the dementors sucking any bit of happiness from the prisoners.

The fact that the girl was composed enough to even be walking was one hell of a feat. After two years, it was assumed she had gone insane, and James honestly felt a bit bad that she was now being paraded through the Great Hall like an attraction at the zoo.

Remus was the first of them to speak, quietly observing, "she doesn't look so good. Healthy, I mean."

Sirius, James, and Peter nodded in agreement before Sirius said, "The girl definitely needs some meat on her bones. Can't be too critical though what with her just getting out of prison."

James opened his mouth to reply to him, but was cut off when McGonagall and Brette stopped walking. They had reached the very end of the row of tables, now standing just in front of the table seating the professors.

Dumbledore stood up slowly and held up his hand, causing the room to instantly become silent.

"Students, tonight we welcome a student transferring to our school – "

Sirius leaned toward James and muttered in a dark tone, "Transferring? Is that really what they're calling it?"

" – so we will holding a separate sorting to welcome Brette Jacquet into one of our four houses."

No more words were said, and with a flick of her wand, McGonagall made a plain wooden chair appear. Just before Brette went to sit down, James saw the professor briefly place a hand on her shoulder as if comforting her.

For the first time since entering the Great Hall, all of the students present could see her face as she sat down and awaited her sorting.

Her dark blonde hair acted as a thin curtain that prevented her downturned face from entirely showing, but her features could be vaguely made out from behind the strands. Dark circles beneath her eyes made her pale skin look nearly translucent, while her cheekbones looked more prominent than was healthy. If James looked closely, he could imagine that she had been a bit pretty, but now she looked, well, sort of dead. The fact that she held herself entirely still definitely contributed to the eerie feeling she gave off.

Brette Jacquet had very clearly not escaped her time in Azkaban unscathed.

McGonagall seemed tentative as she approached the sitting girl, letting the sorting hat hover above her head for a few moments. At this point, people had begun to talk in louder voices, speculating about what would happen, and the word obviously muttered the most was "Slytherin".

The hat was lowered onto her head, and after a few longs minutes of silence it sang out in its gravelly, loud voice a single word.

"GRYFFINDOR!"


	2. Chapter 2

Brette was warm. It was a sensation she wasn't sure she would ever grow accustomed to. The woman who had opened her cell door wide and who she had been staying with had brought her a sweater. Brought her many things.

 _Many things. Many, many, many -_

Quills, cloaks, books. Sweaters. Warm things that she had refused to take off until they told her she would get them back.

Everything was still not quite right. It was hard to remember what she had been like Before. When she had been warm all the time, when everything had looked clear, and her mind could follow what was happening around her easily – without even trying.

But now Brette had to focus to understand what was going on, to remain in the moment. For the last two years, if she had been told the time correctly, she hadn't stayed in the present. She had tried so hard to hold onto her clarity initially, when she had first entered the cold place, but it had taken only a few days around the dementors for her to realize she had to find a retreat in her mind and transform if she was to survive.

Her time when she was human as guards came by and gloated was often spent in that mental retreat. It was easier to be in the world she had constructed on her own than the one she was in now.

 _She was warm again. So warm_.

But the cold couldn't be forgotten.

Everyone around her had spoken slowly to her following her release from the cold place, from Azkaban. They treated her as if she was mentally incompetent, a child who they could blindly lead around.

Brette had not been a child in some time.

And she sure as hell wasn't stupid; she had been one of the top ten students in her year when she attended Beauxbatons Academy, and she had loved learning.

Well, maybe not anymore. She knew she was a bit mad, though without her particular magical abilities she surely would have been in a much, much worse condition.

But when she had been told she would be going back to school it had been the first spark of a positive reaction they had gotten from her. Before her incarceration she had heard good things about Hogwarts, even though her parents thought –

No. No thoughts about her family.

Brette slipped even deeper into the safe part of her mind when her thoughts turned to her family. _She was in the grasslands. She was safe and fearsome. She wasn't being hurt right now -_

But the clicking of heels in front of her yanked her out of her mind, so she tried to focus on what was going on around her.

Oh, right. Minerva McGonagall was striding before her. Opening a large set of doors at the moment, actually.

She liked Minerva quite a bit. The professor had been visiting her for hours at a time every few days to try to catch her up on what she had missed while in the cold place, and had reminded her of her magical lessons to be sure that she still knew the sixth year Beauxbatons curriculum and could perform the proper spells. Her voice had never wavered from its strict tone when she spoke to Brette, and she was unafraid to snap Brette back into the present when she began to fade during a conversation. For the most part she had been able to catalogue Minerva's words and instructions, storing the information so she was able to reflect upon it later when she was alone.

There were four houses at Hogwarts. Brette had heard as much when she had been in school herself. She didn't understand the need for inter-school separation, but it wasn't as though her opinion mattered. She was to be placed in one of the houses at Hogwarts' supper tonight. Minerva said she would have separate living quarters for however long she needed, and that she would escort her to the rooms after the feast.

Apparently they had reached Hogwarts. She had been in her safe place for what must have been a few hours if they were already in the castle and entering the Great Hall – the last time she had been focused was when McGonagall had just come by the place the British ministry had been housing her in to escort her to the school.

People.

So many people.

Her cell had been small and hard. Cold. But it was _hers_. It had been her space to be alone. She wasn't used to all the people.

Though it was certainly different from what she was used to, Brette wasn't frightened much. None of them were trying to touch her without permission, so she had no reason to be apprehensive yet.

Eyes were trained on her, she was sure. Everything was fading again, letting her melt into the static her mind produced. It was only Minerva's tight grip on her shoulder as she guided her to sit down on a wooden chair that had appeared that anchored her back to the present and sharpened her reality once again.

It was a hat that was to decide the sector of the students she would be assigned. Hogwarts was truly a peculiar place. Though it was apparent a moment after it was placed on her head by Minerva that the hat was sentient when it began communicating with her telepathically.

 _Well this_ is _strange, isn't it? I've never had to sort someone after the school year began, and never a girl quite like you. So much more to consider than an eleven-year-old. Your form gives a bit away, and no first year could have already become an animagus of such–_

Brette felt a flash of annoyance and was able to maintain complete clarity, but she couldn't control the snarky thoughts she automatically cut in with.

 _And I've never worn a hat that talks. We're both trying new things this evening._

 _Oh, I like you, Brette. Such a predicament. Clever, certainly, but lacking the respect for rules and authority. You're too opportunistic to care about unconditional fairness. You do have Slytherin blood in you on your mother's side, and the ruthlessness that would serve you well in that house. But your immense perseverance, the strength of your will to survive … yes, you will do quite well I believe in…_

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The shout was unexpected after the sensory silence of the short conversation, and she flinched violently. If the quickness of McGonagall's action in taking off the hat was any indication, she had seen the involuntary response.

The crowd of students she faced were all talking, words she couldn't make out. A number of students at the far table dressed with red accessories clapped half-heartedly.

Brette stood and turned to Minerva, trusting the professor to tell her what to do next. She recalled that she had mentioned that she was in an authoritative position of the house she had just been assigned to, and could make out a small smile. So. The woman seemed to actually _like_ her.

"Go ahead and sit at the table over there for supper. After you are done eating, I will escort you to your rooms."

Brette had to clear her throat, not having spoken in nearly a day, but she was truly appreciative and she wasn't a silent mongrel, so she muttered out a sincere, "Thank you."

Walking to the table was simple, but by the time she had reached it, the world was static. She'd been interacting with the present for a while, and was now feeling tired enough to slip away to her safe place.

On the end of the table closest to her was a large free space, and when she sat down none of those around her attempted to engage her in conversation, allowing her to drift away in peace.


	3. Chapter 3

The food was delicious when Brette had finally calmed down enough to focus. A bit too rich for Brette to stomach a large meal, but appreciated all the same. People kept looking at her, so the thought that bizarrely flashed into her head was that she should keep her manners impeccable. This place was _nothing_ like Beauxbatons. After what seemed like half an hour, someone finally had the courage to approach her – frankly, for a house priding itself on bravery, Brette had expected it sooner.

The boy who suddenly quite literally threw himself down across from her and _slid down the bench_ to come closer seemed overjoyed about something and incredibly entertained.

"So, you got sorted into the best house and it turns out you didn't kill anyone."

Brette froze and stared at him, raising both of her eyebrows. He was blunt, a trait she would typically admire, but there was a bit of dark amusement that seemed cruel.

"I'm Sirius, by the way. The name and statement."

Brette didn't respond, slowly lifting her tea and taking a small sip without breaking eye contact as she assessed him. She had heard the name somewhere, she was sure, but after living in France for most of her life she wasn't entirely familiar with the first names of the 'big families' of England. As if summoned by the absurdity of his presumed friend, another boy with glasses walked over and smacked him over the head.

"Merlin, are you already being an arse?"

The boy sat down beside Sirius and extended his hand, saying in a much less irritating voice, "James Potter, good to meet you."

Brette carefully placed her teacup back on its platter and pushed her right sleeve up to her elbow to avoid any food on the table. With an anxious inhale followed by a short pep talk to herself, she reached over and shook the offered hand. She vaguely recognized the name Potter this time, and knew he was a British pureblood. She couldn't afford to alienate herself from any Light families, especially when every Dark family the Jacquets had been associated with likely thirsted for her blood.

"Pleasure. I'm Brette."

James enthusiastically shook her offered hand before sitting down beside his friend. Before any more conversation occurred, two more boys sat down, the scarred boy sitting beside Sirius while the short blonde sat beside James.

The boy with scars was quiet and even when he said, "I'm Remus, it's nice to meet you."

It was… appreciated, in a way. He was clearly treating her carefully, but she saw no animosity, pity, or disgust in his expression. It seemed that instead he was trying to remain subdued for her comfort. The blonde didn't bother saying anything, but James nodded toward him and said, "That's Peter."

Brette tried to smile at them but knew it might look more like a grimace. She actually remembered the professor mentioning a tutor, and she doubted the name "Remus" was very common. Deciding to try to be friendly, she extended her hand to the boy while pretending every moment they were conversing with her was nearly driving her into hysterical panic.

The moment he shook her hand, however, several things became clear.

He was careful with his grip, but more importantly, he was a werewolf. Her own inner animal recognized it, but Remus's lack of reaction made it clear that he had not noticed her status as an animagus.

"You're to be my tutor, correct?"

Remus released her hand and nodded, directing a small smile at her before he responded, "Yes, in Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Care of Magical Creatures. Lily Evans – she's the red head at the other end of the table – will be covering the rest of your studies."

Sirius, injecting himself into the conversation once more, asked in a voice far less confrontational than he had been before asked, "What other subjects will you be taking?"

"I'll be taking those three –"

Brette started to fade from the conversation and to her embarrassment, had no idea how long she had paused before the sound of a goblet further down the table clattering to the ground anchored her back to the present. When she focused, all four of the boys in front of her were staring with a range of expressions from pity to apprehension. Damn it.

" – as well as Divination and Potions. It isn't a heavy course load, but…"

Well, the reason she wasn't taking too many classes was because she'd been in Azkaban for two years and likely couldn't handle the pressure, but that seemed unnecessary to voice when the boys all grew more serious and nodded back at her.

It was awkwardly silent for a few minutes, all five of them picking at their food before McGonagall strode over to stand beside her.

"I'll be escorting you to your room, Miss Jacquet."

Brette, eager to leave the dining hall and the dozens of curious eyes still trained on her, quickly nodded and stood.

The walk through the corridors was quiet and Brette did her best to try to remember the way. When the two finally arrived outside of the door to her presumed quarters, Brette gained the courage to ask a question she'd been dying to receive an answer to.

"Will I… could I be permitted to roam around? After hours, when no students are outside."

The professor's face grew pinched, and she stared at Brette, seemingly assessing her. Finally, she answered in a strict tone of voice, "You are legally registered. I can discuss it with the headmaster. We have made… accommodations for students in the past."

* * *

When Sirius entered the Great Hall, there weren't too many students around just yet. He'd had a bit of trouble sleeping last night, and he immediately noted that the very reason for his restlessness was already in the room.

Brette Jacquet was a conundrum. He had heard his parents mention their family several times growing up, and their praise for the French bloodline had always had to do with their dedication to the purification of European wizardry. But for her brother to have framed her for murder… there was something much deeper going on. Especially because she was framed by a Deatheater and then had been sorted into _Gryffindor_. Sirius hadn't ever come across another person from a declared Dark family sorted into Gryffindor.

Yeah, last night hadn't been his smoothest moment, but Sirius didn't really believe in holding his tongue or regrets, so he strode over to sit across from her, making sure that she could see his approach from the corner of her eye so she wouldn't be startled. Her constant flinching had reminded him of the time during his youth when he'd been wary to receive hits from his parents.

"Morning, Brette. How're you finding the castle?"

The girl was chewing on a piece of toast, and as she swallowed he could practically see herself shaking out of a type of stupor. Her response was quiet, but it was evident that it required effort for her to speak to him at all.

"It's a wonder. The magic sings in the walls."

Sirius briefly noted that her French accent was barely detectable– the sort of thing that wouldn't be noticed unless someone knew she wasn't a native Brit. He thought over her words for a moment after she spoke. That… wasn't exactly normal, was it? Deciding that he might as well explore the curiosity that bloomed, he asked, "What are you going on about?"

Brette took a deep breath in and out but seemed to steel herself before she met his eyes and looked at him challengingly when she responded, "Azkaban has no magic, only dementors and wards around the outer edge. This castle was built for magic alone. It's beautiful if you focus, or if you aren't used to it."

Sirius hadn't expected her to be so straightforward in bringing up Azkaban. He felt fairly impressed actually, and let a more genuine smile cover his face while he grabbed a muffin from the table.

"I'll take your word for it, I've always been around magic, couldn't find the taste I'm sure."

Brette responded with a small twitch of her lips, and he saw her shoulders visibly relax when she said in a somewhat sharp voice, "So you won't continue speaking to me as though I'm here solely to cause you discomfort?"

And… shit, alright, there _was_ a bit of regret for his blunt words. Brette's behavior for the rest of supper had been incredibly subdued and mostly wary, so his joking hadn't really been the right approach to meeting her and being the first student to talk to her.

"Not to other Gryffindors, if I can help it."

Brette grabbed a muffin herself and began picking it apart, finally saying after another minute or two of silence, "Could you tell me more about the houses?"

Of course that question prompted Sirius to ramble on for nearly an hour.


End file.
